What a day.

This morning my father told me that my uncle Joe has had arthritis most of his life and has symptoms nearly identical to mine.

This afternoon my father called me back to tell me to get my ass to a chiropractor/doctor/whomever I choose and to shut up, he would pay for it, and a bottle of the good stuff too. (Only, my father doesn't talk like that. But that was the basic gist.)

This evening I went to Trader Joe's (for booze and calcium pills) and the cashier, a lad named Scott, asked me if I'd had a good day. When I answered him honestly, he seemed genuinely concerned and sympathetic.

Some days, I like people.

But seriously, arthritis? I'M TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD.